Living Italian

The second time I was considered to be a teen run away, I was actually placed in another home for two weeks by the Police for suspected child abuse.

My father had gotten very angry at me for not taking out the trash one day and found me sitting in the family room with my feet up on the coffee table watching the Simpson's, much as I'm doing right this very second. He tucked the toe of his boot under my knee and shoved hard. Some would say he had kicked me. At the time, I said he had kicked me. He honestly didn't. Then he picked me up off of the couch by my ponytail. He then threw me to the floor by it, not intending for me to land on the rock mantle of the fireplace, but indeed that is where I collapsed.

My knee was swollen the following day. I sat in my English class massaging it during the teachers lecture. The girl that sat next to me in class asked me what was wrong. I'd never talked to her before other than asking her once what the teacher had said about hyperbolas for my notes. For some odd reason I decided to tell her everything. I even embellished a bit to make the story more interesting. The next thing I knew, I was being rushed to Tirzah Tolman's house that day after school and the Police had taken a full report on everything.

It was only a week before my 17th birthday when all of this happened. Without planning, without warning, I was suddenly thrust into another home, all because I told the Police that I didn't want to leave home. They took it as a sign that I was afraid of my parents. When I told them my Father didn't hurt me, that I had been stupid and kicked a post the day before trying to show off my martial arts training, they didn't believe me. My leg had been fully extended before I made contact with the post and I felt a pain screaming through my leg, radiating out from my knee like thousands of needles covered in acid and fire. That night when my father pushed my legs off of the coffee table with the toe of his boot, he had no idea that I was already in severe pain. I had done it to myself. The Police thought I was singing the familiar tune of a tumble down the stairs when I told them all about it. I was looked at by them like a kid that had told a story of walking into a door handle with his eye.

Tirzah's family was amazing. She had two sisters that just adored me right off the bat. Both of her parents were teachers and were under the same impression as the Police. I decided just to not talk about what had happened. I was tired of people looking at me with sympathy like I was a pathetic child afraid of the world and all it had to offer. I finally just shut up about it all together and stopped trying to defend my family.

I was given a list of chores. The bathroom downstairs was my responsibility to clean twice a week from top to bottom and spot clean every day. I would sweep the floor in the kitchen on the even days, and on the odd days I would vacuum the living room. Tirzah and I traded off for these chores, while her two little sisters, still in grade school, had the simple chores of cleaning their rooms, clearing off the dinner table, and sweeping the front porch daily. Everyone in the family pitched in. We even gathered each night to read a passage of the Bible. For the first time in two years, I felt like I was a part of something, like I was a part of a family.

When my birthday came, every member in the family had gifts for me. Tirzah gave me a beautiful purse / backpack in black faux leather. I fell in love with it the second I saw it. Her sister Rebecca gave me a candle. It was a Cinnamon Apple candle to be more precise. To this day a Cinnamon Apple candle reminds me of that birthday and of Tirzah's family. I was there such a short time and truly grew to love every one of them.

The Police came by only a few days later and told me that they were sending me home. Their investigation had turned up no results. They told the Tolman family that I had "made everything up" and I needed to go home. They actually apologized to the Tolman's, telling them that it was a shame they had to put up with me for so long over something that I had clearly made up. Tirzah never spoke to me again - but for two weeks, I didn't just have a sister, but three sisters and a real family.

I often think about Tirzah and wonder where she is. I hope her sisters lived up to their brilliant potential. I wish Tirzah all the good things life has to offer. She was such a kind girl to take in a relative stranger when she thought I was in trouble. May she never loose that divine spark and the desire to help others. She, and her entire family, were wonderful.

Blind Mans Bluff

Mike and Travis were twins that had my heart from the day we met. I was in the 5th grade and the brothers had different classes. Mike was in my class while Travis was in the rival 5th grade room. It goes without saying that Mike had my undivided attention. When Mike asked me to 'go out' with him, it was still at the youthful age when kids didn't hold hands. We just called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

I doted on Mike. He was a bit chunky and short while Travis was tall and lean, but they had identical faces and I adored them both. They were sweet and handsome, kind and genuine. They were also rather popular in class. Both were considered to be the class clowns.

When Valentines Day rolled around, Mike and I had been 'going out' for about two months. He didn't want anyone to know, including his own brother, because I wasn't one of the popular girls. He was afraid it would damage his reputation. I found out on Valentines Day that he also had a crush on another girl in our class.

When the class got done handing out all of the Valentines cards to each of the other students, we all got back in our seats for a fun activity. Mike stayed a little long at Summer Sparks desk, though - and my curiosity got the better of me. I watched as Mike pulled a little black velvet box out of his pocket and set it on her desk before walking away. The teacher asked all of us to take our seats, looking directly at Mike as he did.

Summer opened the little velvet box and her jaw fell open. I had to wait until recess to find out what was inside, but when I found out I was furious. Mike had given her a small silver ring made entirely of entwined hearts. I wanted to slap him across the face!

Patience took hold of me though. I knew I would get my revenge. I just had to wait and be patient.

The following week as we were walking to lunch, I asked Mike if he wanted to play Blind Man's Bluff. He asked what that was and I explained the game.

"You have to walk with your eyes closed and I will guide you by putting my hands on your shoulders and tell you what's coming up. Then you do the same to me. You go first."

"Ok," he said, blindly trusting me. He still didn't know I was aware of the ring he had left on Summer Sparks' desk. He closed his eyes and I stood beside him, my hands on his shoulders.

As we walked slowly to the lunch room, I guided him over rocks and pavement, grass and tree roots. Just as I could tell he was starting to relax and truly trust me, I did something despicable. I walked him straight into a brick wall, nose first.

Mike fell backward, landing like a lead weight, heaped on the ground. He fell with a thud, right on his bottom. His eyes popped open, flooded with tears. He reached both hands up to his face and held his now bleeding nose. For a split second, I felt badly about what I had done. Then the image of the velvet box entered my mind and suddenly remorse didn't exist. I felt justified.

"Oh," I exclaimed with false worry, "are you ok, Mike?" I clasped my hands over my mouth to cover the smile I felt working its way onto my face.

"Whadya do that for?" he asked, stunned. Suddenly I exploded. What good was my revenge if he didn't understand why I had sought it in the first place?

"Why'd you give Summer Sparks a silver ring with hearts all over it?"

Mike's jaw fell slack. He stared up at me, incredulous.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I saw the ring. Why did you give Summer a ring and just gave me the same paper Valentine you gave all the other girls in class?"

"My brother won that in a quarter machine. He's going out with Summer. I didn't give it to her, Travis asked me to drop it off at her desk! Travis gave it to her!"

Shame and remorse kicked in full force - and I never sought revenge against anyone ever again.

The Wreck

"... and here we are, going round in circles, wondering if the lie will be discovered. I’ve told some big ones, but never really on this grand of a scale. And to what end? Actually, strangely enough, it covers her tail end in several different directions. She’s a crazy one. Perhaps someday she’ll let more people in on the secret, but for now it’s only me. For now she won’t even tell her own family. For now, nobody knows. Nobody but herself, me, and the driver of the small pick up truck that crashed into us..."

Exerpt from my book three days before Heathers death.

Dirty Magazines

My brother and I had a babysitter somewhere around the time I was about 5 or so. She was a rather portly Hispanic woman. My brother and I loved her at first. She used to take us out for ice cream, read to us, and color in my coloring books with me. We always had such fun.
Eventually, she showed her true side though. She started telling my brother she was going to tell our daddy on us if we didn’t listen to her. My brother and I really didn’t care about that, or at least I didn’t. I loved my daddy. I adored and idolized him. There was no greater being on the face of the earth than my daddy when I was 5 years old. I couldn’t understand why my brother always acted so scared when she would use these silly threats on us. It wasn’t until years later my mother told me why. Now that I look back on it, it makes a lot more sense.

I loved my brother. He was my best friend. When he started acting scared of this woman, I started feeling a bit odd toward her, too. If my brother were scared of her, I most certainly would be. I drew my strength from him. I looked up to him. It escaladed to the point where he and I would hide in his closet when we were at home. I was more terrified of this woman than I was of being in a dark closet. We didn’t want her finding us.

I think eventually she was able to find us in his closet, and we had to find another hiding place. For a while we chose the old car trailer my dad had in the back yard. We would climb under the middle of it and huddle together in the fall, freezing cold, but refusing to come out until we knew either Mom or Dad had come home. My brother would often hold his arm over me to keep me from shivering so hard my teeth knocked together.

This woman used to take my brother and I in her station wagon every time she had somewhere to go. I don’t remember anything about where we went, but most of the time we had to stay in the car while she went in somewhere. While she was gone inside one day, my brother and I decided it was our business to be nosy. It didn’t take us long to find the Play Girl magazines on the seat behind us, laying in a pile on the top of a cardboard box.

I will never forget the face the woman made when she realized what it was my brother was looking at in the back seat of her car. It took her until we were almost home to realize what he held in his hand, snickering at behind her seat. Suddenly the car swerved violently, scaring both of us kids more than I care to admit, and the tires screeched to a halt. This big, angry Mexican woman spun around in her seat, ripped the magazine out of my brothers’ hand and smacked him over the head with it.

If my memory serves me right, she then called my brother a pervert. In my mind, that doesn’t make much sense. She was the one with two kids under double digits in her care, toting porn magazines around in the open space of a back seat, inches from the children. I remember her screaming and yelling at us all the way home, though I don’t remember a word she said. I think most of it was in Spanish.

My mother fired that woman not long after that, but I don’t remember ever knowing exactly why.

Gas Station Attack

Some people would openly argue that the Second Amendment to the Constitution (the right to keep and bare arms) is a throwback to the Revolutionary War days and no longer applies in modern day society. Many people, especially those in the Security field, would adamantly argue otherwise. Last night something happened to one of my people that not only alarmed us as a team and a family, but opened my eyes to the ever pressing need for alertness and personal protection.

Brian left work at about Midnight when his girlfriend came to pick him up at the end of his shift. He had no gas in his truck, so they swung by a gas station in Lomita in order to fill up. As Brian stood there holding the pump and filling the tank, a large, black SUV came flying into the station, bouncing off the curb and catching a little air with the front tires. It skidded to a halt after about 4 feet and a man in his late 30's jumped out screaming.

"You a cop, Homie? You a cop?" He screamed at Brian.

Normal practice is to cover the uniform or to remove it completely and change out before leaving the post at the end of the night. Brian learned last night why that is one of the rules put in place for Officer safety. The guy came charging at Brian, still screaming. He appeared to not be completely lucid, and Brian suspected him of being on some sort of drug like methamphetamine from his actions and jerky movements. Since Brian had been a Torrance Police Department Explorer before coming to my Security team, he had training in how to handle this sort of a situation.

When the guy lunged at Brian, he grabbed the guys wrist and snapped it down. Then he used his foot on the guys stomach to shove him away. His girlfriend was frightened and jumped back into the truck when Brian urged her to. As the guy was faltering backwards, Brian opened up the drivers side back door of his truck and reached for a small handgun he had taken to the range just the day before. The clip, as according to Law, had been removed, but he reached for that at the same time. He shoved the clip into place, racked a round in the chamber, pulled back the hammer and screamed back at the guy. His first and only thought was to protect his girlfriend.

"Get on the ground" he screamed at the assailant. "Get on the ground, I'm not f*@#ing with you, get on the ground! Face down!"

The guy complied, and Brian placed his knees in the guys back. He held one arm behind the mans back as he holstered his weapon. Then he took his handcuffs out of his back pocket and attached it to the mans wrists. He patted him down for weapons, then his girlfriend, who had called 911, handed him the phone as he approached his vehicle. His girlfriend had already given the license plate and vehicle description to the Police. They said they were on the way. Brian told them that he would remain in place for a moment, but would get back into his vehicle and move to a safe distance as soon as he heard the sirens.

It wasn't another 30 seconds before he heard the wail of the sirens in the distance. He pulled the clip from the handgun, ejected the round from the chamber and stored all the pieces of the gun back the way the Law states they should be transported in a vehicle. Then he got into the truck and drove down the block.

As soon as the police had the assailant in the back of their car, Brian went back to the scene and explained what happened.

"I held him at gun point," Brian stated openly. "He was attacking me because he thought I was a cop. I just wanted to make sure my girlfriend was safe."

"You did the right thing," the Lomita Sheriff's Officer said, "but we may need to take your gun."

"Why?" he asked. "It's my Second Amendment right to have a gun as long as it's not concealed. I only used it in self defense."

Admitting that he was correct, the Officers only asked to see the weapon. They asked why he had it with him in the first place and he pulled out the business card of the gun range he had been to the previous day. He explained that he had been an avid target shooter since childhood and had several awards for marksmanship from his time in the Explorers program.

"So," the Officers said, "Do you want to be a Cop?"

"Yes, I always have wanted to."

"Good."

So the fact that Brian had a gun with him may or may not have saved his life. Maybe he could have taken down this guy twice his size with nothing but sheer strength. Maybe it would have worked just fine. Or, maybe the guy would have overpowered him and raped his girlfriend right there in the gas station parking lot. We've had a Serial Rapist on the loose in the area lately - who knows if this was the guy. The fact remains, Brian acted fast and never had to fire a round. His having a weapon of self defense saved a few broken bones and blood stains on his uniform, be the blood from him or the assailant. It skipped right through the long battle that surely would have ensued had he not acted fast and pulled it out, ready to go.

I don't tell people if I do or do not have a gun. As far as I see it, it's none of their business. When people find out I'm in Security, often I get asked (mainly because I'm a thin and attractive female) where I carry my gun. I never tell them if I do or do not carry one, simply that I carry mine where I'm supposed to.

Brian is a 19 year old kid. Last night he may have possibly saved the lives of his 18 year old girlfriend, himself and the gas station attendant.

I'm very proud of my Officer for thinking fast in the situation he was forced to face head on. He never thought even for a second that "it's not fair" or "why me" or "this doesn't happen". Instead he jumped into action and proved himself, even at such a young age, to be a man worthy of note.

I want him by my side when the Zombie's attack. =o)


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